


The things you need

by dramafreak24



Series: domestic blackrock [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blackrock, F/M, Journal, Rythian - Freeform, Sad Fluff, Some alchoholism, Zoeya - Freeform, enderborn, sweet baby, yogscast - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:39:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramafreak24/pseuds/dramafreak24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 1<br/>you have decided to slim down to just the things you need. </p><p>(Little thing about what happened at the castle when zoey and teep left. set in a journal format)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The things you need

**Author's Note:**

> my friend literally said write the saddest fan fiction you can and this was the result.

Day 1  
you have decided to slim down to just the things you need. here is the list.

  * you need food
  * you need water
  * you need sleep
  * you need work
  * you need to finish



things you do not need

  * her
  * him
  * them
  * people



not any more. not after that.

 

day 10  
you look at the fireplace and wonder for the 1000 time how long has it been empty. you tell yourself that you are missing fire now that it is winter, but you know that is just a lie. fire is very easy to come by, you can spit it from your hands in an eerie blue glow that can warm you and light your work. but as you stare into this blue you let your mind wander to what you are actually missing, what you are aching for deep down: the color red. the kind that pierces the room with sunlight and laughter. The kind that flows like a river of warmth streaming behind its owner. the kind of red that produces magic you never could, the magic to make you smile, the magic to make the whole room smile.

no.

food,water, sleep work.

you extinguish the flame and work in the dark.

 

day 15  
you have taken two things off of your list now, fire and sleep. there is no point in closing your eyes, it only brings distractions and there is so much to be done. your eyes do droop every now and then but another cup of coffee and a small potion and it is time to carry on. your new place to sleep on the couch wasn’t very comfortable anyways.before this, your dreams, always filled with nightmares, would be stopped by reaching out across the space to grab hold of an anchor, your red anchor. on the couch, when you reached, you grasped at nothing but air. this, you discovered, was worse than the nightmares. now you do not sleep.

 

day 17  
you moved the coffee pot and the potion brewing stand to the magic room where you spend all your time now. when you went into the kitchen to retrieve another cup of both, there was a certain empty wooden bowl that would leer at you. every day it would remind you that you had forgotten how soup tastes, how its warmth felt sliding down your throat. how on rainy days small hands stirred slowly to make you mushroom stew. small hands to chase things like rain clouds and sadness away. small hands to hold. anchors to hold. you throw the bowl through the window and move your coffee pot, complaining of draftiness.

 

day 23  
the second the first rain droplets sizzled on the cracked stone, your migraine set in. you didn’t stop at first, but as it grew in pressure you blearily begin to trudge upstairs, as you have always done. halfway up the stairs you freeze, peering at the closed door you can just see just the corner of at the top of the staircase. a couple hours later, you pick yourself off the stairs and walk slowly back to the drafty kitchen and over to the barely functioning sink to wipe your streaked face. the search for a towel reveals another small wooden bowl, dejected in the cabinet. after a while you find yourself standing in the pouring rain. every droplet sizzles on your skin in an irritating manner, but christ is it better than anything in the house.

 

day 29  
the day you find gilbert was the best day you’ve had in a long time. sure that thing was an idiot and you did not need him in the slightest, but he looked so pitiful wandering helplessly through the overgrown garden that you couldn’t help but rescue him. not a need, but a good thing none the less. you look into his eyes after you put him back in the cage and see a reflection of yourself. you had lost your scarf who knows how long ago, and your once combed hair looked wild. your eyes, however, matched gilberts you though.deep, sad, and very very lost. then you mentally hit yourself, because everything was fine. you had what you needed, no need to be lost.

 

day 33  
you take visits outside every once in a while now, at least check gilbert. every trip though, that stupid pool irks you more and more. the colors and the lack of symmetry and everything about its existence makes your stomach twist in knots. you should fix it, but there is no need. food, water, work. that is a need. your mind suddenly turns to wondering about nilsey. you tell yourself you are going to visit, but even you know right off its a lie.

 

day 38  
yesterday you added a slide, because that pool was really bothering you. honestly nilesy who builds a stupid pool without a slide. and you call yourself a pool man. it seemed silly when you first began, but being outdoors in the sun again was somehow, cleansing. you saw a poppy though, and realized very quickly that inside was more important work, so a better diving board would have to wait. you need to do more important things.

 

day 40  
things you need

  * water
  * work



things you don’t need

  * food
  * sleep
  * fire
  * bowls
  * trips outside
  * stairs
  * poppies
  * pools
  * him
  * her
  * her
  * her.



 

day 46  
you don’t remember when you stopped eating, but you took very little notice to it. you have a faint memory of another bowl found mouldy on the bookshelf where it had been abandoned, but you're not sure. the coffee pot became unusably gross some time as well, so all you need now is work and potions. that is fine.

 

day 4 something

the sounds started today. at first you thought it was in your head, voices from the lack of sleep, but no it became louder and stronger until you realized it was reality.

 

day 50 i guess  
the noises were so loud today. so loud that it gave you a headache even without rain. at this point you were praying to notch for some kind of rain to wash all the god forsaken things away in to the pit they came from. even if the flood carried you away to. especially if the flood carried you too.

 

day 5 whatever  
you ran out of things for potions, so now all there is to do is work. some days you wonder what you are working for, wonder why even bother, but your fingers still move, and that is what matters. that you keep going. you decided very suddenly one day that you want to hold sjin and duncan down in the blast radius so you can see the smug looks melt off their faces up close. a small thought in the back of your mind also prays for your own fire baptism to wash all this away, but you have too much to do to dwell on that.

 

day 5_  
as the noises grew, the thought of enderbaine crept up into your mind. you would have to retrieve it, but you knew that now. as the whispers grew in volume you knew you would have to make the trek to the forgotten hovel and back with the cursed blade.

 

day something  
the trip for the blade was simple enough. in the middle of the day there was not a single ender in sight. you flew speedily over the terrain, silently grateful for the ability to stretch your legs again after being inside for so long. you arrive at the shack. unbury the cursed thing and wrapped it quickly in the cloth you had brought, strapping it to your back. on your flight home though, your eyes wandered against your will to a certain glassy lake. after a while, you wondered why you have been standing on its banks staring at the sky for so long. you should know by now that expecting her to just fall from the sky again was something too simple to occur. you recognized the feeling of tears on your cheeks, but do not note them. some simple things did fall many times over you supposed.

 

day  
things you need

  * work



things you don’t need

  * food
  * sleep
  * fire
  * bowls
  * trips outside
  * stairs
  * poppies
  * pools
  * lakes
  * potions
  * him
  * her



 

*  
things you didn’t need

  * her



*  
you notice you haven’t been writing days in the journal anymore, but it is short lived attention to that subject. your focus has been lasered in on your work for who knows how long now. you can feel your ribs but you don’t care. your eyes were bloodshot the last time you checked but you don’t care. your hands are raw from both enderbane and different magical brews gone wrong but you don’t care. you just don’t care anymore.

 

*  
it was so close now. so close you could feel it. your fevered times when you passed out on your desk brought nothing but the feeling of having your enemies melt away in your hands, of have the realease of being swept away yourself. you remember once wanting baptism of water, but now you want baptism of fire, the only way, you think, to you wash your hands clean.

 

*  
you appreciate your fever dreams now. they are rest from the constant ender noises and weight of simply being conscious. in your last dream, she stood there watching, horror in her eyes at what you had done, the word monster written across her face. maybe she was right.

 

*  
the find of old liquor, a christmas present from ravs, was a blessed relief. somehow though, in the bleak hours of the morning, you find yourself in the upstairs bath staring at the man hunched in the mirror. even in your highly drunken state, your own face makes you sick. of course she was right you decide, you can be nothing but a monster. you think all this, before retching your stomach contents in the toilet and spending a much needed night's sleep on the tile floor.

 

*  
the day the queen came was the first day of silence in a while. every noise from the birds to the constant ender buzz had fallen into an unnerving hush. even the wind felt muted. you spend the day pacing back and forth in the castle, waiting for a wing flap to break the silence. enderbaine is in your hand, you're too numb to feel the sting anyways. when the battle comes, so does the thought of letting her eat you, but you have too much to fight for. whether that too much is here or not.

 

*  
when you wake up the next day in the exact place you collapsed, the middle of the upstairs bedroom, you remember one thing, how alive you felt in battle. you hadn’t even noticed how dead you felt inside until that day. you climb to your feet, and numbly look at the broken down bedroom. it does not matter, you think. the feeling of being alive is not needed.

 

*  
the beep started through the crack very suddenly. it was as if a bit of wood gave way finally to let the wretched sound come through. you had just begun to enjoy the silence again when this occurred, so your irritation was very much peeked. you can ignore, rain, bowls and even the coming of the enderqueen, but the sound of mechanical sirens was something to be stopped instantly. you stood on the edge of the ladder, peering down into the hole you did not want to enter, but you knew if you wanted quiet, you would have to. you slip cautiously down the rotting ladder and land with a thud that echoes through the cavern. the very empty cavern. you know the route. it had burned itself night after night into your head, back when you still slept. you walk it like a tightrope, every stepping bringing both anger and crushing loss that tried to pull you slowly to your knees. you keep walking through, past experiment after disgusting experiment, everything sending more knots to your stomach and mounting the intensity of the sour taste in your mouth. you opened the door very slowly to the room you dreaded most. to your thankfulness most of the screens had fallen into disrepair, but some still flickered. teeps. hers. you try to get your hand to reach up at touch her name on that screen, but even that is too much. and there is still a siren. you spot a ladder you hadn’t seen before and again carefully make your ways down the ragged ropes. your name, you see. your screen. and something else. chat. her name. her chat. no you don’t need this walk away. but your fingers type anyways, as if anchored in place. they spell her name, and you can feel red all over again. then she is gone. again. and the rope is not stable enough to pull all of your crushing weight with you.

 

day 100  
things you need

  * her.




End file.
